“Not on my bed, you’re not,” said Mark. “Use the cots in the storeroom.”
“That’s the plan,” said Gadget, testily. “You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”
Mark turned away. He didn’t believe they were wiped out, any more than he believed in the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. How they could even think of sex at a time like this, was beyond his comprehension. Gadget closed the door and was gone. Ten minutes later, feeling sick to his stomach, Mark was forced to turn on a CD. Tina stared at the closed door with contempt.
Later, much later than Mark thought humanly possible, the amorous noises stopped. Mark turned down the music and tried to engage Tina in conversation. After half an hour of one word replies, Mark gave up trying. He had to use the bathroom, but Gadget and Tiffany were sleeping next to it. Occasionally, Tina would turn away from Poncho and grimace, waving her hand in front of her face. This went on for several hours.
The day would pass as slowly as any Mark could remember. The walls of the bunker had never seemed so close together. After a dinner of soup and tuna fish sandwiches, Mark put on an old John Wayne movie. After that, they watched Titanic. When that was over, Gadget and Tiffany excused themselves for the night. “I’m going to bed,” said Mark. “Are you going to join me?”
Tina nodded her head and she moped into the little bedroom. She sat on the twin bed opposite from Mark, tears still leaking from her eyes. Mark said good night. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the covers, while Tina slept in her clothes. After Poncho jumped up into bed with Mark, he shut off the lights.
As long as the day had been, the night seemed twice as long.
Chapter 23
“I don’t understand,” said Tina. “If you had gas masks, why didn’t we use them, yesterday?”
“These aren’t gas masks,” said Mark. “They’re respirators, they aren’t the same thing.”
“Not even close,” agreed Gadget. “These don’t even have eye protection.”
“And you’re sure you only have two of them?” asked Tiffany, sarcastically. “Seriously, why would you only buy two?”
“How many times does Mark have to tell you?” asked Tina. “He wasn’t planning on four adults living down here. Will you just get off it?”
Mark hadn’t even considered the possibility of the chemical, whatever it was, burning their eyes. He had only bought the 3M respirators on a whim, in case of a small fire in the shelter, or something of that nature. He had never dreamed of strapping one on after a chemical weapons attack. Besides the respirators, both men wore cheap latex gloves. “You guys hurry back,” said Tiffany. “And tell Jumbo that I want a gin martini waiting for me, okay?”
Tina rolled her eyes and she gave Mark a hug. “You will hurry back?” she asked.
Mark nodded. Tina had begged Mark for the extra respirator, but Mark had convinced her that this was men’s work. He slung the .308 over his shoulder and Gadget hefted the Remington twelve gauge. They were as ready as they were ever going to be. Poncho tried to sneak out with the men, but Mark told him to stay. Obediently, he sat down by the sofa. Tina and Tiffany held towels over their noses as Mark opened the door. Gadget quickly closed it behind them. Slowly, they climbed the stairs.
Mark opened the hatch and was temporarily blinded by blazing daylight. He nearly panicked, but Gadget pointed up to the sun and then to his own eyes. Mark’s eyes adjusted and they began walking. The day was warm, perhaps the warmest of the year. Mark’s precious woods were silent; the only sounds were made by their own feet. He dreaded what they might find. Mark tried to mentally prepare himself for a worst case scenario. As they walked, he cursed yesterday’s storm. If the shelter had not flooded, the doors would have been closed. Had he not given Glick the Honda generator and the pump, there would have been no reason for the doors to be open. He carried that guilt on his shoulders.
Mark studied the trees; did the leaves look darker than they had the previous day? He couldn’t be sure, but he thought they did. He stepped over a dead chickadee and shook his head. Were all the birds dead? What about the deer and rabbits, or the other animals in the forest? Mark tried not to think about that.
Topping the small rise at the freshly turned earth, Mark’s heart soared at what he didn’t see. The garden hose was gone. He ran to the trapdoor and found that it was closed. He looked at Gadget and both men pumped their fists into the air. Mark dropped to his knees and pulled on the door, but he found it locked. Thankfully, they had planned for this. Tiffany had told them about a spare set of keys for the shelter. Jumbo kept them under the bar, inside his garage. Mark got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his knees, and saw that Gadget was already heading down the washed-out road.
A mosquito landed on Mark’s arm and he swatted it. He then felt guilty for killing it, for besides Gadget, it seemed to be the only living thing in the woods. He spotted a dead robin and wondered about the insects. Without the birds to control their population, how long would it be before the skies were filled with clouds of insects? Mark found that he didn’t want to think about that, either.
Gadget stopped at the edge of the woods. They scanned the backs of the houses, but nothing looked any different than it had on the previous day. There were no black Chevy pickups in sight, which had been another concern of Mark’s. They walked up the road that led to the easement between Jumbo’s and Larry’s. A striped gopher, very much dead, was lying in the middle of the sandy road. They stepped onto Jumbo’s lawn and Mark could feel his pulse quicken. He was sweating. They walked between the two houses and around the corner and they nearly tripped over Jumbo.
Mark quickly turned away and fought the urge to vomit. Jumbo was lying on his back, eyes wide and mouth open, his hands clutching his neck. He had already begun to bloat. A swarm of flies circled his corpse. Suddenly, Gadget tore off his respirator and he began to retch. Creamy brown liquid exploded from his mouth. The sight of it pushed Mark past the point of no return. He flung off his mask and puked in the opposite direction. He knew that if the chemicals were still in the air, both he and Gadget were dead men. The stench of death hung in the air. Mark staggered away from Jumbo’s body and the puddles of puke. He jogged around the fallen tree and up to the open garage.
“Sweet Mother of Jesus,” said Gadget, joining him at the garage.
Mark stepped inside and walked straight for the bar. He found the keys where Tiffany had said they would be. There was a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam on the bar. Mark looked at Gadget and peeled off his gloves. “I’m going to give my stomach a minute to settle, but then I’m going to have a stiff drink.”
“You won’t get any arguments from me. Do they have any Coke?”
Mark found two cans of Coke and he fixed two strong drinks. Gadget found a partially melted bag of ice in a cooler and he dropped some cubes into the glasses. Without ceremony, both men drank. “We’re going to have to bury him,” said Mark.
Gadget nodded his head. “The poor bastard,” he said. “I didn’t like the guy, but I never wanted something like that to happen to him. Tiffany is going to freak out.”
Mark took another sip of his drink. He had a bad feeling about what they would find in Jumbo’s shelter. He pointed to his mask, which he had set on the bar. “Do you think we should put those back on?”
“What’s the use? Besides, I think I got some puke in mine.”
Mark tipped a little more Jim Beam into his glass. “Anita has some flower beds behind her house. We’ll bury Jumbo out there.”
“Easy digging,” said Gadget, “good idea. You want to plant him before we check on the others?”
“Yeah, I don’t want Tiffany to have to see him like that.”
Gadget sipped his drink. “Me either,” he said. “What are we going to do if they’re all like Jumbo?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Mark. He turned and put his back to the bar. “Do you know how to run an excavator?”
“Do you mean that scoop shovel thing out b
y the shelter?”
“Yeah, the scoop shovel thing.”
“Nope.”
“Well, we’ll have to figure it out. God, I hope to hell that we don’t have to.”
“Okay, let’s not even go there,” said Gadget. “The door was closed and locked, so we have to assume they’re alright,” he drained his glass and set it on top of the bar. “Let’s get this over with.”
The men attacked Anita’s flower garden with spade shovels. Overhead, the sun baked down upon them. They dug for fifteen long minutes. When they began hitting large rocks, they decided that Jumbo’s grave was deep enough. They then returned to Jumbo’s body. Wordlessly, they each grabbed ahold of one of his ankles. He had fallen out of his flip-flops and his feet were coated with dried mud. They drug Jumbo on his back; his hands never left his own throat. The smell of death was overpowering.
Both men were breathless by the time they chucked Jumbo into the earth. They grabbed the shovels and quickly finished the job. “Should we say something?” asked Gadget.
Mark sighed. He hadn’t liked Jumbo, not even a little bit. But he had been a father and a husband, which was why he had bailed Jumbo out of jail. He bowed his head. “God,” he said, “this man is your problem, now. Amen.”
“Amen,” said Gadget. “Let’s go have another drink.”
Mark had been thinking the same thing. He was soaked with sweat and horrific thoughts swam inside his head. They returned to the shade of the garage and fixed another round. All too soon, their glasses were empty. They walked to the open garage door and stood there, staring out at the empty cul de sac. “Are you ready?” asked Mark, picking up his hunting rifle.
Gadget reached for the shotgun and shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Longingly, Mark stared back at the bottle, but he knew that they had had enough. There would be plenty of time for liquid courage, later. He led the way, walking between Jumbo’s and the Kibble’s houses; the yellow tape still covering the front door. The thought of Dottie and Bones, lying dead in the ground, caused Mark’s eyes to mist over. They had been good people, maybe the best of all of them. Had the rest of them merely been putting off the inevitable? Mark thought about that as he walked.
Soon, they were back inside the silent woods. Mark found himself looking for ways to prolong their walk. When Gadget excused himself to step behind a tree, Mark followed suit. He hadn’t really needed to go, but he had needed to stop. When Gadget finished, he led the way to the shelter door. Reluctantly, Mark followed. They stood at the trapdoor and Mark said a silent prayer. Gadget’s eyes darted around the woods, but he said nothing. Finally, Mark drew a deep breath and he dropped to his knees. He inserted the key into the lock and twisted it open. He then heaved up on the door. “Hello?” Gadget called. “Hello, can you hear me?”
Mark shook his head. “There’s another door at the bottom,” he said. “Come on; let’s get this over with.”
Gadget’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and then he nodded his head. “Please,” he whispered, “let them be alive.”
With the sunlight showing them the way, the two men descended the fresh concrete stairs. At the bottom, Mark stared at the steel door. He then pounded on it. They waited for thirty seconds, but there was no response from the other side. Mark held up the other key and he inserted it into the lock. “God,” he said, “please help us,” he then twisted the lock and pushed open the door.
There was no light, no sound; no sign of life. And the smell of death sent both men scrambling up the stairs.
Chapter 24
“You bastards!” shouted Gadget, punching both fists into the air.
Mark fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. The experience had brought him back to that cold winter day; the day he had discovered his own family. He covered his face and wept, bitterly. What were they to do, now? How would they break this terrible news to the women? How do you tell someone that their very reason for living has been taken away from them? Tina would become suicidal, Mark was sure of it. Tiffany might also want to take her own life. How could they stop them? Did they even have the right to do so? Mark became aware of Gadget trying to help him to his feet. With all the strength he could muster, Mark stood up. “What the hell are we going to do?” he asked.
Gadget wiped the tears from his own eyes. “I’m going down there,” he said. “We have to be sure.”
“I can’t,” said Mark, holding his hands over his face in shame. “I just can’t.”
“I know you can’t. Don’t worry about it, man. These were your people. Wait for me. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Mark dropped his hands and nodded his head. He watched as Gadget steeled himself before going down. When he disappeared into the doorway, Mark began to sob. He was reliving his own recent horror; and even knowing that, didn’t help him. He cried for Tina, but he cried for himself, as well. He was going to have to dig deep and find strength. A blubbering wretch would be no help to anyone. Mark fought to compose himself. He stared down into the open doorway of hell and shook his head.
Gadget reappeared a minute later. “They’re all gone,” he moaned. “We’re going to have to tell the girls.”
Mark stared off into the direction of his own shelter. He had no idea what to say. Still, he knew that Gadget was right. He picked up his rifle and motioned for Gadget to grab the shotgun. “Don’t let either of them get ahold of your guns,” he said.
Gadget picked up the Remington and followed Mark. The long walk seemed to be over in mere seconds. Mark lifted the trap door and stared down at the stairs. “I’ll do it,” said Gadget. “You can wait up here.”
“No, I’ll go with you. I want Tina to hear it from me.”
Gadget led the way down the stairs and Mark found his keys. He turned the lock and opened the door. Both Tina and Tiffany stood there. Mark could see in their eyes that they knew. “No,” cried Tina, “no, no, no, no!”
Tiffany raced past Gadget, and he made a half-hearted attempt to stop her, but let her go. Tina stared at Mark, and then she followed Tiffany. Mark let her go. He had no words that might help ease her pain. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. Her family was gone. Tina was screaming before she reached the top of the stairs.
Mark fell onto the sofa. Poncho waited patiently at the door. Gadget looked down at him. “I suppose you want to go outside, huh? Come on, buddy.”
Mark fought to control his emotions. Slowly, his grief turned to anger. As the minutes passed, his anger turned to fear. He dried his eyes, stowed the rifle and the shotgun, and stumbled up into the daylight. From across the woods, he could clearly hear the women. Tiffany cursed at the top of her lungs while Tina wailed in agony. Mark staggered off to join the others.
Tina saw him first and she ran to him. She pounded her small fists into his chest. “I want to die,” she moaned. “This can’t be happening. It isn’t fair!” Tina reached down to grab his Ruger, but Mark had been prepared for that. He held his hand firmly over the grip. “Give it to me!” she cried.
“I won’t,” he said. “If anyone knows what you women are going through, it’s me. Somehow, you’re going to have to find the strength to get through this. Suicide isn’t the answer. Your families would want you to live.”
Tiffany had wandered over and she gave Mark a contemptuous look. “Oh, listen to you, trying to compare your loss to ours. Did you see the bodies of my children? They knew what was happening to them! Your kids died in their sleep!”
“Shut up!” retorted Tina. “You shut your fat face or I’ll bash it in, you bitch!”
“Hey,” said Gadget, “just calm down; fighting isn’t going to solve anything.”
“He’s right,” said Mark. “And to answer your question, Tiffany, no, I haven’t been down there. But if you want me to help you bury your family, you best change your tune.”
“Jumbo can bury them,” spat Tiffany. “He’s probably sleeping one off, isn’t he?”
Tiffany’s eyes grew sinister and she made claws with her hands. She then screamed profanities at the top of her lungs. Tina clung to Mark, sobbing. Poncho sat next to Gadget, looking sad. The sun was high above them, baking them with reality.
Tiffany’s rage ebbed into grief and she apologized to Mark. She hugged Tina and the two grieving widows clung to each other. Mark explained to the women that they had to bury the bodies, just as soon as possible. Thankfully, they seemed to understand that. He and Gadget walked over to study the excavator, with Poncho following at their heels. Mark breathed a sigh of relief when he found the key in the ignition. He had operated a skid loader, once, and he hoped that the scoop shovel thing was as easy to operate. Sadly, it wasn’t. One minute after starting it up, Mark nearly tipped the lumbering machine over. Somehow, he managed to keep it upright. He studied the pedals and levers. Gradually, he was able to guide it, more or less, over to the soft dirt where he would dig the trench.
With Gadget riding next to him, giving Mark his inexpert advice, he began working the big hydraulic arm. Tina and Tiffany sat on a downed oak tree, with Poncho sitting at their feet. With every scoop, Mark began to find his rhythm. By the time he had finished digging the long grave; Mark felt comfortable operating the big earthmover.
The hours that followed were a living nightmare; with oceans of tears and mind-numbing bouts of wailing. One at a time, Gadget and Mark retrieved the bodies. The best they could, they laid them out into the trench. As they toiled, Tina and Tiffany returned to Anita’s prized flower garden and they pulled up everything they could get their hands on. They covered the bodies with flowers, except for one. There would be no flowers for Larry. Despite Tiffany’s protests, Tina wouldn’t allow it. She seemed to blame Larry for the death of their family; and while Mark knew that was wrong, he knew better than to try and reason with her.
Bunkers Page 20
